Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
She had me grab a hat and aviators when we left but passed me a pair of thick rim glasses and an oddly bushy stick-on mustache once we got there. Frankly, I didn’t know how anyone would even notice me when she stood beside me. All eyes would be on her with her effortless style. Those billowy pants and denim jacket looked unsuspecting until she turned, and you got the full effect of her fitted cropped tank top. Maybe two inches of skin showed, but I couldn’t focus on anything other than how much I wanted to figure out if she was as soft as I remembered.
“So, how is this supposed to help?” I asked, looking up at the white panels of the building.
“It’s an art museum,” she responded, like it answered all my questions. When I still gave her a blank look, she explained. “Art inspires art.”
“I mean, I’ll give it a try.” My hope waned a little. When she said she’d had plans, I imagined something more than looking at paintings.
“So, part of our problem is that we can’t quite find our sync. So, we’re going to play a game. We’re going to observe the art, but while we’re looking on, we’re going to come up with our own story for it. One of us will start, and we’ll have to alternate back and forth until we come up with something fabulous and absurd.”
“Oooookay.”
“Trust me.” She turned to pay the lady, and I ducked my head low, but apparently, the mustache worked because the attendant didn’t blink twice.
Thankfully, we came earlier in the day, ignoring Aspen’s disapproval over the phone when Nova informed her of her plan. Add in it was a weekday, and other than maybe a few school field trips, it was pretty slow. Thank goodness.
“So, I take it you don’t do many museums in your spare time?” she asked while we wove our way around the statues on pedestals.
I scoffed at the words, spare time. “Not that I have much, but a museum isn’t the top of my list.”
“You never did like art museums.”
“The only paintings I truly enjoyed were yours.”
“Ours,” she corrected.
“Yeah, ours.” I smiled at her profile, warmth spreading through my chest when she mentioned how it had been our art. Even though my contribution had been merely a dot. “But we do actually hit up a few museums when we can. I like the natural history ones because of all the dinosaur bones.”
“Like a little kid.”
“Hey, they’re pretty cool.”
“What else did you do?”
Her question was innocent enough, but it halted the growing heat with a cold bucket of reality. We didn’t know each other anymore. We missed out on so much.
“We went on a lot of hikes. I think I’ve hiked almost all of Southern California.”
“Is that where you live?”
“Sometimes. I have a house there I share with Ash.”
“And the tiny mansion in New York.”
“Yeah, that one, too. Also, the one—”
“Seriously,” she cut me off with a shocked cry.
I laughed at her dropped jaw. “I’m kidding. I just wanted to see your reaction.”
She shoved me but smiled. “What else did you do?”
“We went to a lot of concerts. That was us studying our art. From Lady Gaga and Katy Perry to Foo Fighters to Luke Bryan.”
“Wow, you don’t like country.”
“I do not,” I confirmed. “But he was entertaining. We learned a lot of stage presence at those concerts.”
“That’s awesome.”
“It was. We have a lifetime of stories, which is cool. But things get busy, and concerts are harder to get to. Hobbies are harder to keep up with. It’s great, but you have to adapt.”
“Do you love it?”
I took a deep breath, thinking over it all. “Yeah, I do. Everything has downsides, and any job will have hard days. But I still love it.”
“Good.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Well, you’re basically crushing the Instagram game, writing music for huge bands, and I’m assuming you do art, based on your pictures online. Or are you just painting and burning them?”
“You know, Picasso painted over some of his own paintings. Maybe I just do that?”
“Do you?” he asked, brows raised.
“Nah. But it’d be a cool find if I became famous later.”
“So, what do you do with all that art?”
“I sell some of it. Just not consistently enough to count on it as income.”
“Ahhh, the life of an artist.”
“’Tis glamorous,” she laughed. “I’m working on it, though. I kind of just started a bunch of hobbies. Hiking was a great way to escape and just have it be quiet, and I saw such amazing views that I wanted to capture forever. So, I picked up photography and started posting them. I didn’t expect it to be what it is.”
“Yeah, a million followers is a hell of a platform.”
“And apparently, I lived under a rock, not quite realizing I could monetize it until Rae lost her shit on me.”